Of English, Headaches, and Memories
by AithneTheDaydreamer
Summary: Suzaku struggles to adapt at Ashford. However, when all seems at its worst, he speaks to an old friend and finds inspiration in the most unlikely of ways...


**Author's Note: **This fic (inspired by my crazy English teacher and his love for assigning essays) is for **AngelEmperor, **who set out on a journey with pen (Pencil? Keyboard?) in hand in order to defeat writers block and create for me a lovely birthday present. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Code Geass, even though I wish I did.

Suzaku stared at the clock, out the window, at the small thread that lung to the mousy brown hair of the girl in front of him. Anywhere but at his desk and the monstrosity that sat on its surface. The teacher's voice droned on. Fragments of speech entered through one ear, bounced painfully around, and squeezed unpleasantly out the other, leaving him with a throbbing headache.

"Due at the end of the week..." Blah, blah, blah. "Seven pages typed..." Was it normal to feel one's pulse in one's head? "It will count for most of your semester grade..." Was the semester nearly over already?

Suzaku took a steadying breath, sending his maddening thoughts scurrying away like flitting ghosts. This would not stop him. He was a prodigy. Cecile had said so, and his feats in past battles certainly agreed with her claim. He glanced down.

"Write a seven-page, typed essay on any experience you have had and how it changed you for better of for worse. You will be graded on structure, content, and grammar." _Grammar._ His only weak point so far. His Achilles Heel. He learned English as a second language, and although he could manage to speak it well enough, he was hardly able to write it. There were so many exceptions and rules. _A word that is spelled the same can be used differently. Add a new paragraph when one wishes to change topics. Complex sentences, compound sentences simple sentences, run-ons. Never put in a fragment unless it is for effect. _He glanced furtively to the side.

_Lelouch. _The pale, purple-eyed boy was eying the paper he held casually in one hand with a faint, knowing smile. Suzaku couldn't help but feel slightly angry. _You were always the smart one, weren't you. I could always outrun you, but you were always the one with promise._

Lelouch's eyes slid in his direction, perhaps sensing his gaze. Suzaku quickly directed his gaze downward. _It's as if nothing ever happened. As if we were never friends._

Class ended sometime after, although Suzaku hardly processed it in his addled mind. He put a hand to his head, which still throbbed in sync with his pulse. He realized that he had never actually had a headache before. Lelouch did, once. Suzaku had remained with him in the dark while Nunnally slept nearby.

_"It feels as if someone is trying to tear apart my head from the inside out..."_

_"Don't worry. I don't think anyone's small enough to do that." _Lelouch had laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes from the pain, and Suzaku cried because he couldn't understand why his friend was laughing, and Nunnally cried because her two favorite people in the world were crying. He remembered how Lelouch's eyes shone when they were full of tears. Suzaku's were always red and puffy, and his nose ran. _I should stop thinking about him..._

He glanced at the essay prompt, printed on clean white paper. Hours later, in front of his computer, he stared at the same prompt and made no move to begin. His thoughts cycled madly once more. _I can do this. (I'm terrible at English...) I've been through worse. (I _hate _English!)_

He crumpled up the prompt almost mechanically, threw it across the room, and headed out the door. 

It was raining outside, the kind of unpleasant rain that fell in a mist but eventually soaked through clothes to the bone.

The yard was abandoned, leaving Suzaku in a sort of solitude that struck him to the core. He was never alone. Even piloting a Knightmare there was always someone to speak to, to call if there was trouble. He stood, entirely alone and not completely sure why.

"Suzaku." He blinked and turned around to find Lelouch standing several paces away, his black hair slightly limp with the clinging dampness of the rain. Suzaku searched his face and found no hint of hostility, but no sign of warmth either.

"What do you want?" It came out harsher than he had intended.

"Only to say hello and inquire why you are out here. You can't really be alone here, by the way. The student council has been watching you this entire time." Lelouch gestured to a window, where sure enough, Suzaku caught the outlines of several interested faces. He turned back to his companion and suddenly words were spilling out of his mouth.

"I can't write this essay. I'm not good at English, and I don't think I can manage!" He babbled. Lelouch shook his head, and Suzaku noticed he had the grace not to laugh. _He's changed. _No. _We both have._

"You'll find a way, Suzaku. You got yourself here. You can get yourself through." With those words, he turned away. Suzaku reached out and caught his shoulder.

"Will you help me?" Lelouch's gaze softened and his lips curled gently upward.

"No." And looking into those eyes, Suzaku understood. 

The pages fluttered in the breeze from the open window as they landed on his desk. He flipped through, finding that his mistakes were indeed in grammar. But they were small. Fixable. He knew that he could manage this class now, if he tried. His eyes settled on the scrawled handwriting at the bottom of the last page.

_"A wonderful narration! This friend of yours sounds like quite the remarkable young man!"_

Suzaku couldn't help but smile.


End file.
